


Fashionably Straight Eye For The Queer Guy Who Kind Of Hates Sleeves (And May Be Getting Married)

by leiascully



Series: I Like You Under My Skin [9]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Because Tony, M/M, Phone Calls & Telephones, Suits, Voicemail, Wedding Planning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-13
Updated: 2012-09-13
Packaged: 2017-11-14 03:24:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/510805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiascully/pseuds/leiascully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony does what Tony does best.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fashionably Straight Eye For The Queer Guy Who Kind Of Hates Sleeves (And May Be Getting Married)

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: N/A  
> A/N: Because Clint would need a suit. Because Tony won't settle for anything but the best.  
> Disclaimer: _The Avengers_ and all related characters are property of Marvel Studios and Joss Whedon. No profit is made from this work and no infringement is intended.

_Clint Barton picks up his phone after a long day at the range with new arrows and discovers the following series of voicemail messages in his inbox._

Clint. Tony. Hey, buddy, I heard you might need an actual suit one of these days, and I know how much you hate sleeves. So I'm going to do you a solid here. Do not, under any circumstances, listen to anything Coulson has to say about Dolce and Gabbana. I swear to God it's like they gave him his first blow job. Don't tell him I said this, but there are better suits. [ _explosions audible in the background_ ] Oops, gotta go. This is not over. Don't even think for a second that this is over. And no fucking Armani either. 

Clint. Tony. Listen, you really gotta go pinstripe or go home for this affair. No microcheck. NO microcheck, do you hear me? I know it's your goddamn wedding or whatever, but trust me on this one. Microcheck is not part of the vision. 

Clint. Tony. Just checking - you don't know a single thing about color schemes, am I right? I'm right. 

Clint. Tony. Has he even proposed yet? Because I have to tell you, we might need to build this around the ring. We're going to make it work, though, no matter what Coulson's sappy ass picked out. Or wait, are you the one popping the question? Because if you are, DO NOT GO RING SHOPPING UNTIL I GET BACK. Kevlar is not romantic. Not even in our line of work. Although that does give me some ideas for some extremely rugged lingerie. [ _explosions, click of phone hanging up_ ]

You know it's me. I wasn't talking huge pinstripes. We can do something subtle. But the sleeves are non-negotiable. And you're wearing a French cuff, because only an asshole wouldn't wear a French cuff on his wedding day. And you're going to need better shoes, and Natasha told me you only own three belts. I swear to God I don't know how you get through the day, Clinton. Good thing you've got your Uncle Tony. Meet me at the Quinjet in the morning - we're going shopping. 

Do not ever, _ever_ , on pain of pain, call me Uncle Tony. 

There is just no reason in this day and age that a man of Coulson's resources should be wearing a suit that isn't bespoke. You should slip a little something into his morning coffee. Once he's been in Brioni, he won't even remember D&G. I would like to state for the record that I am pro drugging a man in order to get him into a better suit. No jury could convict me. Not after they saw the suit, anyway.

You don't actually know what microcheck is, do you? 

Is this a summer wedding? We could get you something in linen for the reception. The jacket stays on, Clinton. You're not allowed to remove your jacket until you've had at least three glasses of champagne and the DJ has surrendered to the inevitability of Top Forty Pop Hits as the only way to get the room moving and shaking, despite the fact that we are all too old to listen to any of that. Would it be too much to do cufflinks that were little arrows? I know a guy who could do them in bronze if you're not into gold. But my money's on gold - Coulson's such a fucking traditionalist. He's probably going to go down on one knee and everything. But I'm sure you know how to handle that. If you know what I mean. Ow, Pepper, ow. 

Fuck, you really have to get on this ring thing. How the fuck am I supposed to dress you for your wedding when you haven't even decided on a ring? I'm a man, not a miracle worker. Admittedly, I'm Iron Man, which is pretty cool, but the suit doesn't play as daytime dress. You're gonna have to have an evening wedding if you want that - repulsors just don't work before five p.m. How do you feel about fireworks?

Fuck, I hope Bruce has a suit. And Steve. You know we're not going to get Thor out of that fucking armor. What is it with superheroes hating sleeves? Rogers is the only one of you who keeps all his clothes on. And Natasha. Does she need a suit? We could make that happen. Something cut low enough to provide a little interest ow ow ow, Pepper, Jesus, I might need that later.

Undershirt. Dress shirt. Cufflinks. Tie. Suit jacket. Suit trousers. Boxer-briefs. Silk socks. Pocket square. Good shoes. Ring. None of this is negotiable, Clinton. We're gonna have someone do something with your hair, too. Nothing we can do about the face, but the hair we can do. 

Kidding. There's nothing wrong with your face. Mostly.

We need to talk about the honeymoon. I'm guessing you'll be spending at least part of it with clothes on. You might as well look good. But no fucking sandals. Europe doesn't get everything right.

Pepper says I'm obsessing over this and if I don't give her the phone, she's going to do something dire, so I'll talk to you late [ _abruptly cuts off_ ]

Jet. 10 a.m. Done.


End file.
